Wide Awake
by xoxomadisonbryce
Summary: A fanfiction branching off Angel's experience at the end of "Angel." The 'cold liquid' was cryogenic fluid, and a very confused flock wakes up many, many, many years later in a world they could never imagine in their wildest dreams. Max and Fang have a lot of fixing to do, and Dylan and the rest of Fang's crew are nowhere to be found. And who is this mysterious group The Novem?
1. Prologue

_**I already have Nevermore, it's sitting on my kitchen counter, but I started this fanfic several months ago. It just never got posted, hah. So, ignore Nevermore if you can-enjoy this if you will.**_

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_**T**he first thing I always remember is the cold._

_Gaspingly cold. Everywhere. Holding me completely still as if I'm encased in a block of ice._

_No, colder._

_The second is that my eyes are glued shut, and I can see a faint blue light through my eyelids._

_The third is that there are three tubes crammed very uncomfortably down my throat._

_The fourth is a faint, unwavering hum. Like a hummingbird next to my ear._

_The fifth and final is how stiff my joints and body felt. Like I'd been asleep for a thousand years._

_Little did I know._


	2. Chapter One

"**B**e gentile," Fang snapped viciously, watching them life Max out of her cryo chamber. He struggled not to pay attention to the fact that these strange men (in white lab coats no less) had their hands all over Max's naked body.

The oldest of the four cryogenics specialists gave Fang a dirty look as they slowly lowered Max's fluid-drenched body into the first of the warming tubs. "Williams, get rid of those tubes, _now," _the scientist barked, and a red-haired lab assistant scurried forward, his blue eyes unabashedly raking over Max's body.

Fang's fists clenched and he glowered at the assistant. The large warehouse where Fang had woken up almost an hour ago was very drafty, and standing in only a pair of white gym shorts, with his wet hair dripping down his neck and back, he shivered.

The assistant, George Williams, had removed the three tubes from Max's throat and he was coiling them up to put them away.

"Let's move her to the next tub," one scientist, Dr. McKenzie, instructed. "I'll do it," Fang offered quickly, and he surged forward, wrapping his arms around Max's slippery form. He lifted her gently into the next tub, which was full of water exactly fifteen degrees warmer than the prior tub.

"Do you want to wash her face?" The assistant asked, holding out two small bottles and a white wash-cloth. "Sure," Fang answered warily, taking the supplies from the scrawny man. "What's the difference?" Fang questioned, raising his eyebrows.

The assistant pointed to the smaller of the two bottles, a clear one full of a liguidy purple substance. "This one is for her eyes," he said, "The micro particles will dissolved the chemical that keeps her eyes from opening."

"This one," he pointed to a larger one, an opaque, unlabeled grey bottle, "is for the rest of her skin. It contains specialized particles in it that will A) dissolve the cryo fluids that are still adhering to her skin and B) help her warm up a little bit more. If she starts to come to, make sure you put the transition glasses on her, otherwise that much light exposure could hurt her eyes severely or potentially blind her."

Fang nodded mutely and set down the few things on the small counter in-between the tubs. He sat down on the stool next to the tub, licking his chapped lips nervously and trying to train his eyes on Max's face. He squirted the first solution onto a wet washcloth and rubbed gently across her eyelids. Her eyes fluttered slightly at his touch but she showed no other signs of waking up.

Fang moved onto her face, rubbing in slow gentile strokes as he let his mind wander. In the hour he'd been awake, no other train of thought had crossed his mind except for _MaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxM axMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMaxMa xM-_

It was rather pathetic. Now that Max was safe and tangible beneath his gentle fingertips, all sorts of questions began to swirl among the Max-ness in his consciousness.

Where were they? And who were these strange white-coats who were by no means as cruel as the ones Fang had grown up with. He hadn't even bothered to ask why he'd been put into the cryo tank. Max was his first concern. Always. But the better question; how _long _had they been frozen?

"Time to move her," a voice yabked him ungracefully out of his cloud of thought. Dr. McKenzie. Silently, Fang lifted her again, placing her in the warmer-still third tub. "Now what?" Fang asked, leery. Fang just wanted Max to wake up already.

"Rub her body down to clean off what's left of the fluid. I'll just get George to do it, if you don't mind—"

Fang stiffened, eyes flashing. "I do mind," he snapped with irritation. "Nudge can do it," Fang shot at the assistant, "_He's _not touching her."

Fang's eyes found Nudge. She was sitting at a table a few feet away, wrapped in a blanket, wearing a white tank-top and grey sweatpants. At the sound of her name, she stood, shedding the blanket and crossing the room, her brown wings hanging loosely behind her.

"Fang I assure you, we are specialists, and George is perfectly competent, if that's what you're worried about."

Fang gritted his teeth and felt his wing muscles twitch reflexively. "_Nudge is going to do it."_ Fang ground out, "End of story." The coat sighed but thankfully didn't argue. "If you insist," he muttered grumpily, shaking his head. Fang glanced at Nudge than flicked his eyes at Max's unconscious figure. Nudge instantly got to work, thankfully in a quiet manner.

The LA was glaring at Fang, but it was the least of his worries. Max showed no signs of waking up and Fang began to worry—he'd come to in the second tub.

"Time to move her."

The fourth tub was the largest, and it was equipped with a detachable showerhead next to the temperature dials.

Fang moved Max a final time and the LA turned on the jets that were supposed to help stimulate her. "Here," he said, handing Fang yet another bottle. "You can wash her hair." Fang nodded at him, then closed the screen completely around the tub. He hated the way people were staring. Not just at Max, but at him. His exposed wings. His ignorance. His protectiveness.

He used the showerhead to douse her head, careful not to let any water stray onto her face. His fingers were gentle and deliberate as he combed out the cryo fluid and the tangles. Her hair was long and slippery against his callused fingers and, asleep or not, it was soothing to him to be near her. He tried massaging her scalp, water in the face, foot tickling, a (short, very chaste) kiss, but nothing seemed to be waking her up.

Stress creased in between his eyebrows as he leaned over her, brushing his wet fingers across her cheek. Her skin twitched slightly. Then nothing.

"Max," he whispered, chewing on his lip. "Max, come on, wake up," he could hear his voice tending towards desperation as he spoke and he quickly took a few deep breaths to re-center himself. "Max, babe, please, you have to wake up," he murmured, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the plastic of the tub. "Max, if you don't wake up I will lose my mind." His voice was a soft whisper. He said nothing more.

Then, "You mean you haven't already lost it?"

Fang looked up in surprise. But there she was, brown eyes wide open, smiling a bitten-lip smile. Fang felt all the air leave his lungs in relief, and his head tipped forward slightly, resting gently against her forehead. His eyes closed and he smiled slightly. He couldn't remember what he'd been worrying about just a second ago. Almost automatically, he lowered his lips to kiss her, but she turned her head, so his mouth landed on her cheek. His mouth opened slightly in surprise, but she was looking away. Fang took a step back, realizing his mistake.

"Sorry," he murmured under his breath. "It's okay," Max replied easily, smiling that smile that made his heart stutter. "Are you… warm enough? Everything okay? Oh, crap, the transition glasses; do you…" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Max faltered, then shook her head. "I'm okay, but can you… get me out of here? So somebody can tell me what the hell's going on?" Fang reached for a blanket that had been draped over the screen. "Here," he said, spreading it and closing his eyes, "I won't peek." He promised. He heard her get out, and he put the blanket around her, before pulling her close and reopening his eyes.

"You scared me," he whispered against her shoulder. "I thought you weren't gonna wake up."

Max drew back, jerkily, like she'd been stung. "I wouldn't leave you," she said quietly, her eyes never meeting his. "Leaving is your job, Fang."


End file.
